They may not have known Portland, but Portland wanted them

“When they told me I was coming here, I thought I was moving to Oregon,” one of the Hearts of Pine players said. 

wrote poetry for it not to be heard

by the ears of my own species.

One day you won’t

be able to ignore me; you won’t

be able to trip me; you won’t

be able to point your fingers and laugh.

I am half the blood of gods; I’ll push your fists away effortlessly.

i want to call you out like a cold winter breeze full of ice and snow / but july cocoons

itself around you / flame and flame and smoke and mirrors / a wall i could never get

through /

17 and 20

Sisterhood

I see reminders of you everywhere.

This one

winter leaf,

alone in the dark,

there it lay

all cold and gray.

I hear you

Beating against the tempered glass

Your rhythmic melody

Tapping on the charcoal gray roof

It sounds like music

The “Orono Collection” comes from an eighth grade accelerated writing class in Orono, Maine, guided by Katie Quirk.

I jolted awake when my head hit the window, the cold flat surface making contact with my forehead. I opened my heavy eyelids, still drowsy. I looked outside and saw that we were still driving on a dirt road. Raindrops were racing down the window. The sun was just starting to peek through the trees in the woods. I looked up to the front of the car and groaned when I saw that it was only 5:03 a.m. “How much longer until we get there?” I asked, my voice still raspy from waking up.

The sign said, “You’re entering Maine’s largest wilderness.”

“Wait, what? Only now we’re entering Maine’s largest wilderness?” I joked as I strode proudly up Baxter State Park’s infamous Abol trail. This was one of the more challenging routes up Mount Katahdin with almost a four-and-a-half-mile ascent featuring a steep, rocky climb before a flat top. This hike was said to take ten hours, but I knew we could do it faster.